


Kyle and Eric Do Colorado

by HungLikeARainbro



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, DUI, Depression, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The boys are 17, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Versatile Cartman, Versatile Kyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungLikeARainbro/pseuds/HungLikeARainbro
Summary: Kyle is depressed and Cartman is going to cheer him up with Spring Break.Eventual Kyman. Some brief F/M. Cartman flirts, it's truly disgusting.





	1. Bridge Over Troubled Water

**Author's Note:**

> I have a confession to make - I had already started this halfway through writing my last story. I'm a ficaholic, what can I say?
> 
> This is partly free-form - I know all the main stuff that's going to happen, but how we're getting from A to B is on a whim, so you won't get the level of intricacy that was in PD.
> 
> Cartman is way more Cartman in this story, and Kyle is more Kyle. Which has been a blast to write, let me tell you.
> 
> Incidentally, the characters in this story take a rather blase attitude towards depression and suicide. If you are experiencing negative feelings you might want to stay away. If you know anyone depressed/suicidal do not take any advice from this. Do almost exactly the opposite of everything Cartman does. He is terrible at helping.

He held back a sneeze as the freezing night air turned his nose and cheeks pink. Staring down at the murky waters, he thought about how he had come to this decision. Not killing himself; that had actually been quite easy. Method was the problem. There was mess, or pain to deal with from most deaths. That’s sort of how death worked. You were meant to be put off wanting it.

He had settled for jumping off a bridge into a river. No body to clean up. The river would wash him away quite neatly. Hitting the water, if he went head first, it would be like landing on concrete. Instant. Even if he survived that, he’d freeze before he drowned. The view was nice too.

He didn’t leave a note. It wasn’t like he wanted mystery surrounding his death. It was just that the truth would hurt more than not knowing.

Kyle couldn’t write, _I’m gay and that’s why I have to die._

_I’m gay and I know you would be devastated._

_I’m gay and I heard you that night talking about Craig and Tweek and how ashamed you’d be if I brought a guy home._

_You asked me why I was suddenly struggling at school. I can’t concentrate, can’t sleep. Why wouldn’t I wear t-shirts anymore? Because I was practising on my arms. Ready for the real thing. But I’m too much of a pussy. I didn’t want anyone to see those pathetic little white scratches._

_For all your so-called tolerance… Garrison was right. That’s all it ever was. It’s okay for that stuff to be happening, so long as it’s happening somewhere else. Happening to someone else._

_Not your own son._

He straddled the fence of the bridge, barely three foot high. Really he was surprised more people didn’t come up here. It was ideal for jumping. He leaned forward and the water rushing below was a perfect echo of the blood rushing through his ears. His fingers tensed as he prepared to let go.

A hand pressed against his back and he screamed as he fell forward, his stomach lurching. The fabric of his shirt was grabbed and a thick arm wound around his body.

And a sick voice whispered in his ear.

“Saved your life, Kahl…”

*******

“You’re a-a piece of-of shit, Cartman,” Kyle shivered in the car.

“Guilty!” he grinned effervescently, “but a piece of shit that saved your life, Broflovski. You can say ‘thank you’ anytime.”

“Thank you?!”

“Hey it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re welcoooomeee!” he sang, drumming his hands on the dashboard.

Kyle curled into himself, hating that he had Cartman’s coat wrapped around him. But he was still cold from the bridge. And the desire to punish his body had lifted for the moment. “What are you doing up here, Fatass?”

“Saw you dragging your Jewrat self up the mountains without a jacket. Got curious.”

Of course he had no jacket. Kyle hadn’t planned to exist much longer, certainly not enough to get cold. “And once you saw why, you somehow thought it was your business? Or would you really miss me that much?” A raw emotion sliced through his heart. He selfishly hoped people would miss him, but the actual image of his family and friends crying as they desperately searched for him had never even dented his soul before now. He was incapable of remorse. Now he had it in bucketfuls.

Still, feelings, actual feelings. It had been a long time since he genuinely felt them. He absorbed them inside like a man starved.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kahl,” Cartman’s sudden sneer made him jump. It occurred to him that Cartman hadn’t answered right away. “If the cops came round with evidence that I saw you skipping to your death, people would never stop giving me shit. Waaah, you let our beloved day-walker nerd die – you monster, Eric!”

 _Beloved._ Kyle flinched. Was Cartman deliberately trying to make him feel like a giant shit stain? He had to go home – no, not home, somehow that was even worse. But somewhere else, anywhere away from _him_. Unfortunately home was exactly where Cartman then suggested and he had no choice but to shrug and let himself be driven back down the mountains.

*******

Kyle had noticed the faint aroma of alcohol on Cartman’s breath back when he sniggered in his ear on the bridge. He briefly fantasised that Cartman was enough over the limit that the car would veer over one of the turnings and this could all be over. Then he wouldn’t be a tragic teen suicide. It would be Cartman’s fault. But then again, Cartman would finally get his wish of murdering Kyle and he couldn’t let that happen. Making Cartman miserable was one of the few pleasurable things tying him to life.

As Cartman hit the flat and brought his decrepit shaking car up to ninety the idea became less appealing. Kyle watched the dial crank higher. “Cartman, maybe you should slow down.”

“You’re looking at the best driver in South Park, stop bitching.”

“I’m looking at the speedometer, actually, and I’m not going to stop bitching until it’s lower.”

Cartman snorted, leaning into the steering wheel. “Does everything look blurry or is it just me?”

“Cartman!”

“I’m joking, Jesus. There’s too much sand in your vagina, Kahl."

A high wailing and blue lights from behind them gave Kyle reason to shoot Cartman a shrewd scowl. “Goddammit, Cartman. If I get thrown in jail for being an accessory, I’ll-” Kyle’s threat evaporated as Cartman floored it. He gripped at the dashboard, staring blindly as light and shadow flashed intermittently across their faces. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You said you didn’t want to go to jail.” His eyes flicked to Kyle’s. “Neither do I.”

“If you’d just pulled over and apologised…”

“Look, I’m not meant to be driving, okay? My licence got yanked.”

“Why?”

“Give me a list, I’ll tick off what I done.”

“Oh my God, Cartman!” Though really Kyle wasn’t shocked. Just scared. And scared that he was scared. Dying was suddenly the last thing he wanted to do.

“Calm down, Jew. Barbrady always gives up once I hit the town limits. Once we’re out of South Park, we’re safe.”

“If we make it that far.”

“Ten minutes max. I can keep this up for ten minutes.”

Maybe _he_ could, but Kyle sure couldn’t. He leant back into the car seat from the G-force, swallowing down the bile in his throat and praying for the quickest ten minutes of his life.

*******

Cartman was right. Officer Barbrady had been on the force so long that he hated actual police work and once Cartman was out of his jurisdiction he turned around in relief. Cartman kept going, just in case, until he found a motel. Pulling in, Kyle finally breathed. “I am going to fucking kill you.”

“You could,” said Cartman, rolling a joint. “But then you wouldn’t have the energy to kill yourself. Then what?” Kyle sat in furious silence, shaking his head when Cartman offered the smoke to him. “You need something to help you relax, Jew.”

“No thank you.”

“More for me then,” Cartman shrugged. Kyle folded his arms, waiting for the next plan of action. Cartman seemed to be thinking hard as he inhaled slowly. Then his hand slapped down on the dash. “I got it!”

“Got what?”

Cartman grinned. “One word – Springbreak.”

“Actually modern vernacular doesn’t allow for-”

“Can you NOT be a nerd for five seconds, Jew? Just listen to me. I say we just keep driving, you and me, and have a vacation. We’ll hang out in motels, find some girls to bang, drink and eat and smoke and just fucking enjoy ourselves.”

“I really think-” Kyle was cut off by a pudgy finger jabbing his arm.

“That’s your problem right there. Stop thinking.” Cartman twisted in his seat, the red glow of his cigarette highlighting his round cheeks. “Thinking is why you’re depressed. It’s a known fact. Humans overthink, overreach, then overreact. Sometimes we need to just get back to baser instincts, like animals. Eat, sleep, fuck, imbibe.”

“Animals don’t do drugs.”

Cartman sucked up a long drag. “Catnip.” Kyle laughed. “And there’s some species that deliberately eat fermented fruit.”

“You’re a fountain of knowledge, Cartman.” Kyle buried further into the oversized coat. He had chosen Spring Break to commit suicide because it left plenty of time to organise the funeral. It was strange to be so pragmatic about it, but then he’d read people often were.

But maybe he deserved Spring Break first. A final hurrah before the final curtain.

But a whole week with Eric Cartman. No thanks.

“No thanks.”

“Put it this way, Jew,” said Cartman, stubbing out his joint, “you don’t have much of a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Unless you’ve hidden it somewhere very interesting, those skin-tight jeans lead me to believe you don’t have your wallet with you.” It was true. Kyle had left everything behind. He was convinced he wouldn’t need it. “I guess you could walk home. I might even be nice enough to lend you my coat.” He leant closer. “Or you could just let me show you the time of your fucking life and give you a reason not to be such a shitty suicidal loser.”

“Remind me again why you don’t work for the Samaritans hotline?”

Cartman sat back again, rubbing his eyes. “I’m seriously. Look, I… I don’t want to spend Spring Break in that fucking hellhole. I want to have fun! It’s our last year and I don’t want it to suck. Kenny’s too fucked, or fucking, to ever go anywhere, Stan’s so vanilla even Mormons look down on him, and don’t even get me started on Butters.”

“You’re basically saying that as far as losers go, I’m slightly less bad.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Cartman cackled at him. “You’re actually not so lame, once you get some alcohol in you.”

Kyle could do with a drink. He could do with anything but sitting in a car with Cartman lamenting his failed death. “Okay but, you realise I have no money.”

“I will treat you,” said Cartman, hand on his chest, “out of the goodness of my heart.”

Kyle managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re weeeeelcooooome!”

Kyle hung his head in his hands, wondering just what exactly he’d agreed to.


	2. Under Pressure

Kyle woke dry-mouthed and damp-backed in a dingy motel room in a bed across from Eric Cartman and began to feel that maybe the universe hated him. He rooted through Cartman’s wallet for some change so he could buy a soda from the vending machine outside their door. Gulping down the drink with wanton thirst, he licked his grimy teeth. They’d need to pick up some toiletries. He already felt gross. A toothbrush and some toothpaste, some fresh underwear, a couple of extra t-shirts, _definitely_ a coat of some sort. Then he’d feel a bit more human.

Back inside, he handed Cartman the rest of his drink and Cartman downed it greedily. “I vote we find food,” he announced with a yawn.

“Sounds good,” Kyle yawned back, though he wasn’t even slightly hungry. “There’s an IHOP across the street if you want.”

“Pancakes!” Cartman cried out in joy. “Kickass!” Kyle clutched his t-shirt, almost suffering a heart attack from the outburst. Hopefully Cartman would settle down over time. Kyle wasn’t sure he could cope with Cartman’s current level of enthusiasm 24/7.

*******

The IHOP was dead. They settled down into a booth and a dark-haired girl came over to offer them drinks. Cartman ordered them both a black coffee on assumption and Kyle eyed the menu with disinterest. He noticed Cartman nodding his head at him. “What?”

Cartman jerked his head to the counter. “Well?”

“I don’t…” Kyle looked over. “What?”

“The waitress. Hot, right?”

“Oh er… I guess?”

Cartman muttered under his breath, “Fucking homo.”

Kyle hid behind the menu, scarlet-faced from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. It was a generic insult but the fact that Cartman had hit the nail on its bent little head annoyed him. The girl came back for their order and addressed Kyle first. “What would you like?”

“Oh uh… the Fresh ‘n Fruity pancakes.” He knew Cartman would have some smartass remark but it was the only thing he even remotely fancied. To his credit, Cartman only smirked.

She turned to Cartman, “And what would you like?”

“What do you think?” he grinned, patting his girth. “Fucking everything.”

She giggled and took his real order, Cartman leaning on one hand and almost purring his request. To Kyle’s horror he realised Cartman was flirting. 

Now he _really_ wasn’t hungry.

Whether she was being polite, just wanted a good tip, or was flattered by the interaction, she nonetheless continued giggling. Whichever it was didn’t matter to Cartman. He rubbed his hands gleefully when she was gone. “What a piece of ass, right?”

“Feminism is just a score of fifteen in Scrabble to you, isn’t it?”

“Depends where it’s placed on the board,” Cartman retorted, still giving her bedroom eyes from across the way. Kyle couldn’t help but notice when she refilled their coffee and brought their breakfast that her hand lingered against Cartman’s at every opportunity. Taking the cup from him, handing him his plate. Kyle sank into his seat. She _was_ flirting back, and he had a front row seat to the nauseating display. 

She ran a finger over the table, coyly. “So what’s your plan for today, guys?”

“We’re on a road trip for Spring Break.”

“Wow, lucky!”

“Wanna come with?” Cartman offered as he speared some bacon.

Kyle kicked him under the table.

“You’re sweet to offer, but I have work tomorrow. Though… I guess it’s not until night-time.” She tapped her chin with a sparkly fingernail (unhygienic for someone in the food industry, Kyle pouted to himself).

“Awesome, we’ll pick you up after work, go hang out somewhere. Don’t suppose you got a friend for this loser here?” He poked Kyle’s face with a greasy digit. Kyle swatted it away, fuming.

The waitress checked him out. “Actually, I have _the_ perfect girl for you. She loves red-heads.”

Kyle paled. “Oh no, it’s fine. You guys go have fun. I’ll stay in the motel.”

This time Kyle was the one who got kicked. Cartman growled, “Excuse me a minute, babe. I need to talk with my little ginger friend here.”

“What?” Kyle hissed after she left, caressing his aching shin.

“I’m trying to get you laid here.”

“I don’t want to sleep with some random girl I just met, believe it or not.”

“You asexual fucker,” Cartman whined, ignoring the oxymoron. “I can’t believe you’re going to ruin this for me.”

“I’m not, I just told you. Go without me.”

“Yeah and when I bring her back to our room and your open-wrist corpse is laid out that’s gonna be a real turn-off.”

Kyle’s eyes widened. Was Cartman… afraid to leave him alone? “I’m not going to do anything,” he sulked, a little warmed at the thought that in spite of being in horn-dog mode Cartman was worried about him. In his own Cartman way. 

The distraction _could_ be useful. The idea of being alone right now… And it wasn’t as though he hadn’t faked his way through a straight date before. His mother had set him up with enough ‘nice Jewish girls’ over the years. And he wasn’t obligated to sleep with her. He could feign a headache, excuse himself early. “Fine,” he relented.

“You won’t regret this, Kahl. We are going to have the best night of our lives.”

Kyle really doubted that.

*******

The two boys spent the afternoon picking up the items Kyle wanted for cleanliness and clothing, plus some snacks and other important items. Cartman threw a box of condoms at his head and shouted, “For later!” at him, completely unaware of how that might look to other people. Kyle picked up some lubricant too, because he was a gentleman like that. Not that he planned on using it himself. Then again if he could ditch Cartman and his lady friends he might get lucky.

Ha, not likely. Even if he could find a gay bar, he’d never have the gall to go inside. Even if he had the gall to go inside, he wouldn’t have the confidence to pick someone up. Even if he had the confidence to pick someone up… one gets the idea.

Where would he take them anyway? Back to the motel? He could just see Cartman’s face in the morning. “Hey Cartman, don’t mind me and my naked giant bear friend.”

Come to think of it… what _were_ Cartman’s plans for tonight? Kyle hoped that his girl had a place to take him because the four of them back in the motel would be super awkward, especially as Kyle planned to take his date aside at some point and explain as nicely as possible that nothing was going to happen.

Kyle didn’t ask and they spent the rest of the afternoon at the motel, watching TV and snacking as he waited with increasing dread for the date to begin and, more agreeably, end.

*******

Cindi ‘with a C and an I’ looked nothing like what Kyle thought. Cartman’s date from the IHOP, Sandy-Lou (and Kyle was still laughing about such a white trash name) had said her cousin was super-cool and Kyle had been sceptical with such a name. But she looked how he felt, sullen and bored, with black hair and punky clothes and she had a fondness for chewing nicotine gum.

He gave her a winsome smile as they were introduced. “I like your tattoo.”

“Which one?”

“Um…” He’d only meant to be polite, not start an actual conversation. He had no opinion about any of them. “That one.”

He seemed to have chosen well because she patted it happily. “Thanks, it’s my favourite too.”

They went into a bar the next town over that the girls knew never carded and Kyle drank himself into a stupor to deal with the bitterness of being stuck between a rock and a straight place. Kyle mildly hoped that if he was boring enough, Cindi would excuse herself at the end and grab a cab home. As the night wore on, Kyle felt his inhibitions fall away and he gave up caring about keeping up with the conversation. Cartman had his back, could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and had the two girls enraptured with his stories and opinions. He could have gotten through the rest of the night if Cartman didn’t insist on draping himself all over Sandy-Lou in front of him in an increasingly sickening fashion. He ignored his body’s quiet complaints and kept drinking.

Time blacked out from his mind and suddenly he was in the motel room, swaying next to his bed, Cartman and Sandy-Lou making lewd sounds across the way. Cindi was saying something but he had no idea what and he brought a hand up to her face when she kissed him. Oh well. Lips were lips, weren’t they? Hands were hands.

He fell back on the bed, looked up at Cartman grinning at him as he pawed his partner’s bare flesh. As much as he hated to, he tried to concentrate on his deep groans as inspiration for his arousal and let Cindi manoeuvre his hands to where she wanted them. And so Kyle spent the first day of his death having sex with a woman under his frenemy’s elated witness.


	3. Love Man

He spat the excess toothpaste into the sink and blearily regarded his harrowing reflection. Was it possible to age ten years in one night? He considered that he was proof that you could. The translucent-skinned crescents under his eyes were bad news and the pallor of the rest of his face wasn’t much better. He checked for grey hairs amidst his russet curls but found none. He stuck a furry tongue out. Attempting to brush it clean with his toothbrush had just made him gag. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets to balance out the pressure building behind and meandered back into the room. It was morning and Cartman and Sandy-Lou were still naked and sniggering together in bed. Kyle went outside in his boxers, didn’t really care about his reputation anymore. Getting arrested for public indecency right now would be a relief. Cindi was smoking a cigarette by the front door. She offered it to him. He declined, flopping onto the floor beside her. “They still at it?” she mumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Kyle groaned.

“I woke up to that shit. Can you believe it? Poking me in the arm to see if we had any condoms left. Not my fault they used all theirs up.” Kyle didn’t tell her that Cartman had wasted half the box the previous afternoon by filling them with water and hurling them at him when he tried to nap. Cindi stubbed out her smoke and popped in some fresh gum. “What about you? Want to go again?”

“Oh er, no thank you. I’m kinda ill. Nothing transmittable,” he added with an anxious laugh. 

“I don’t blame you. Trying to block those two out all night wore me out too.”

Actually Kyle had been listening quite intently to Cartman last night. It made his skin crawl to think of Cartman on the job, and it felt worse to actually see it live. But he thought it was worth trying to trick himself into thinking that he was with another guy by concentrating on his moans and gasps. Of course it didn’t work, not really. But closing his eyes and ignoring what his body was feeling he convinced it that whilst Cindi wasn’t what he normally wanted, she wasn’t completely unappealing. Not to mention she was more experienced. Played him like a one-stringed guitar.

And he was rudely ignoring her right now. Kyle lifted his head. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah nerd, do you want to go to the arcade? There’s one around the corner.”

 _Nerd._ Why did people assume he was a nerd after five minutes of knowing him? “Sure. Sounds better than hanging out on a stoop.” He snuck back in and quickly grabbed some clothes, then allowed her to lead him to a small arcade where she bought pretzels for their breakfast and they played a few games. He honestly thought things would be weirder between them, but he barely remembered what happened, and he didn’t think it was her fault anyway. He should have just slept in the car. But then she’d have been left all alone. With those two.

Come to think of it that would probably have suited Cartman. Could have meant a threesome for him.

“Some people have all the luck,” Kyle murmured as his avatar was shot in the face again.

Cindi reloaded and threw him a medipack. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” _Just hating this trip._

*******

The pair of them rolled their eyes at Cartman and Sandy-Lou nibbling sadly at each other as they said goodbye, promised to keep in touch, add each other online, etc. Kyle hung out of the car window, gave Cindi a polite kiss on the cheek. They’d swapped numbers so they could stay friends; planned that he’d eventually confess that she was the first and only girl he’d ever sleep with. Fingers crossed.

The car rocked and squeaked pitifully as Cartman landed in the driver’s seat. He made a few more sad kissy faces at Sandy-Lou and drove off. “Okay!” he crowed as they turned onto the highway. “Where we going to find our next set of bitches?”

“You’re unbelievable, Cartman.”

“What? Just because _you_ can’t shake hands with a girl without proposing doesn’t mean the rest of us have to live like that.”

Kyle stared out of the window, tears threatening in the corner of his eyes. He never cried, not for anything. But suddenly he felt close. “Take me home, Cartman,” he croaked.

“We just got started, you dickpunch. Why do you have to be so lame?”

“I’m _depressed_.”

“You’re depress- _ing_. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever. If I suck so much then why bother with me?”

Cartman ignored the question. “Just give me a couple more days. Turn you into someone that’s not a boring streak of piss. We’ll get you a decent chick this time. Someone who doesn’t look like Tim Burton’s personal gimp.”

“A few tattoos and dark make-up doesn’t… look, whatever. I think she looked okay.”

“Oooh, so you did like her! I knew it.”

Kyle shook his head. Why fight the assumption? It was safer than Cartman knowing he was travelling with a homosexual. He could imagine him stamping around in fury. “I can’t believe out of all the available people in South Park I’m travelling with the one free fag.” 

“Two more days,” Kyle sighed. “That’s all I’ll agree to.”

“That’s all I need,” Cartman grinned, setting his GPS for the next motel.

*******

There wasn’t much to do for the last few hours of the day. They stopped off at a few tourist traps, took some pictures and posted them online. Kyle had let his parents know (through Cartman’s phone) where he was and although they were furious that he just up and left without any contact details, following his adventures on the internet had calmed them down. Obviously he hadn’t posted anything from last night.

Cartman had skipped lunch because he was too busy eating Sandy-Lou (Kyle grimaced at his proud laughter) and Kyle’s blood sugar was getting low so an early dinner was in the works before they hung out in a park the rest of the night drinking beer that Cartman acquired at some point and Kyle didn’t dare ask when or how. He got the feeling he was better off not knowing.

“Got some pointers online,” Cartman said, rolling a joint. Kyle declined again when it was waved in his face. “There’s a bar in the next county that doesn’t card. That’s our stop tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“Get you some more pussy dude, duh.”

“Not all problems have solutions at the bottom of other people’s vaginas, Cartman. Believe it or not.”

A plume of smoke curled from Cartman’s smile. “So where _is_ your solution, Jew, tell me. I’m curious.”

“I don’t know. If I knew that I’d have tried to get it by now.”

“Then how do you know it’s _not_ there?”

Kyle hunched his shoulders forward as he buried his face into his knees. He only had to put up with Cartman’s badgering for one more day, plus one or two travelling back. Then he’d be free.

To do what exactly? March straight back up the mountain, he supposed. Nothing had changed after all. He was still a gay disappointment. If anything, Cindi had helped clarify his feelings. Lying there, feeling what he hadn’t expected to feel during his first time. Soft swells instead of hard plains, wet muscle instead of a tight hole. Not _terrible_ , at least not to him, just not desirable.

“It just isn’t,” he finally said. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, Cartman?”

Cartman pushed his ushanka off so he could ruffle his hair. “Because I caaaare about my sad little day-walker.” Kyle retrieved his hat, pulling it back on in a panic before anyone passing by saw the extent of his hair. He was still a little sensitive about his Jewfro. Surprisingly, the girls hadn’t said anything about how he didn’t take his hat off. He stormed off to the motel and slipped silently into bed.

And wondered to himself. After being friends for so many years, Kyle could read Cartman like an ABC book and sometimes he was a little too transparent and said truthful things amongst the sarcastic volley of insults they threw at one another. It was a possibility, however slim, that this was just Cartman’s misguided way of cheering him up. If he could just understand that he was a) doing everything wrong and b) it wouldn’t matter because Kyle couldn’t be cheered.

Just as he was falling asleep, Cartman dropped a new box of condoms on his head. “For tomorrow,” his large friend winked and Kyle hid himself under the covers with a moan.

*******

Cartman would never let anyone else near his precious car, even though it was a second-hand pile of junk. So being the only driver, and drinking (only soda because Kyle threatened to jump out when Cartman tried to twist open a beer) and smoking far too much, it was the third time they stopped that day and they were making bad time. At this rate, they wouldn’t make the bar before night fell. Not that Kyle was complaining. His bladder wasn’t exactly camel-like either, and there were some more tourist spots he wanted to check out. He took a few selfies with Cartman’s phone at the landmarks, successfully sneaking Cartman into the background of some of them. He hated photos that he couldn’t stage to make himself look half-decent, even though Kyle reassured him he looked good most of the time. Cartman would just scowl and huff and mutter about Jews having low standards. So far Cartman hadn’t looked through his phone’s gallery, so the pictures were safe for now.

But that evening they stopped off at a landmark, just an old tree on a hill with some legend attached to it. Kyle didn’t bother to read the plaque nailed to a stump nearby. The sun was setting turning the sky into a gradient of violet to salmon and Kyle had a strange urge, needed a record of it. He motioned for Cartman to stand against the backdrop and he reluctantly plodded into place. “Come on, Jew. Hurry up.”

“You look like a sulking toddler, smile or something dude.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t smile in pictures.”

“You smiled for yearbook.”

“You asked me to.”

“And I’m asking you now,” retorted Kyle. Cartman scoffed and thought for a moment. A smile melted on his features and he leant against the tree in a perfect Abercrombie and Fitch pose. If they photographed fat guys. Kyle took the picture and sighed. He was probably thinking about Sandy-Lou, considering how satisfied he looked with himself. Well whatever, if it meant getting an actual photo of him for once. Cartman grabbed the phone from his hand. 

“Cartman, hey!”

“It’s _my_ phone,” Cartman pointed out. “Just c’mere.” He moved behind Kyle and pulled him close, holding the phone in front. “Double-selfie. Smile Jew.” Kyle smiled in spite of himself and the photo came out looking rather cute, at least to him. Cartman with his arms either side of his neck to hold out the phone and grinning over his shoulder.

Something nice for Cartman to remember him by.


	4. Leave Me Alone

They managed to make it to the bar before the date changed but it was a total dive, and some of the other kids in there were so young they were surprised that there were no NAMBLA members sniffing around. They decided it was a bit too lax and crawled into the one bed in the only hotel in town that would let them in so late at night (or early in the morning, depends on one’s perspective). Cartman refused to sleep sober, so they propped up with a few beers and watched Terrance and Phillip until the small hours.

Over breakfast in bed, Cartman found them a new destination, and planned a more intricate route to allow for bathroom breaks, food and naps. They were at their destination with plenty of time for dinner and pre-drinks. Halfway through the week and they were only just getting the whole thing down. Typical.

Kyle dreaded walking into the bar. He much preferred their vacation during the day; gazing out of the window as Colorado scenery zipped past and listening to Cartman’s not _too_ terrible music selection. It was a bit old school, but Kyle liked cheesy and camp as well. They also talked a lot – about signs they saw, the songs playing, things they drove past, school, friends, family. Cartman had a social comment about everything. Kyle didn’t argue with any of them, not like he used to, he no longer had the energy. 

It was weird spending so much time with Cartman. The last couple of years they only hung out in their little friendship group. Kyle was either busy studying or preferred to be with Stan if he had to interact one-on-one. He was his Super Best Friend after all. 

It was a shame, he realised, because he’d been strangely close to Cartman when they were kids. For all their fighting – it mostly stemmed from the two of them being too damn similar. Stubborn and opinionated. But whenever they were united on a front, you sure as hell stayed out of their fucking way.

Kyle had never felt less united with Cartman as he waggled his eyebrows at all the hot girls wandering around town as they approached the establishment.

*******

“What about her? You like black chicks, right? You’re down with the swirl.”

“Jesus Christ, Cartman, keep your voice down.”

“What? She can’t hear me.” Cartman threw back another shot. “Your go.”

Kyle threw back his own. They were five for five, had only been there half an hour. His whole body was disagreeing with the activity – loudly – until his brain pointed out they were both lucky to still be alive at this point anyway. “Can we slow down, please? And maybe leave the women here alone.”

Cartman signalled the barkeep for another round. “No way. I already missed out yesterday. If I don’t get some action soon my dick’ll shrivel up. You keep cock-blocking me like this, Jew, and it’s gonna look Japanese by the end of the week.”

“Because you were _so_ getting it on the regular back home.” Kyle winced when Cartman’s fist sharply pounded his shoulder.

Cartman got up from the bar. “C’mon, those guys are finished.”

Kyle followed his sightline to a pool table. “Pool, seriously?”

“Or we can finally go girl hunting.”

“Pool it is,” said Kyle, finishing his drink. Cartman racked up, let Kyle break as he chalked up his cue. Kyle leant over the side, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. 

“Very nice,” said Cartman as the balls fell into place. “But no pot. My turn.” Kyle stood aside and let him play through. Cartman had his own table at home, in his basement, and he and Kenny nearly always hogged it when they all hung out. Kyle had to wait for Stan to want to play, and he never wanted to, so his skill was lacking in comparison. Kyle never played against Cartman because they were both so competitive and it was explosively heightened whenever they were around each other. A friendly match usually turned into a Star Wars re-enactment with cue sticks for lightsabers. Hopefully being in public would encourage Cartman not to be a bad winner.

Oddly, Cartman wasn’t saying anything at all between frames. He looked up occasionally from his drink but that was it. It was only when Kyle was half-straddling the table to make a corner pot that he noticed Cartman was looking back at the bar. Specifically at a couple of girls. A couple of girls that swivelled around on their stools and pretended to have been talking the entire time when Kyle caught their eye. He left his shot to confront Cartman. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Fishing for girls with your cute li’l butt, and it’s working so shut up.”

“Oh my God!" Kyle’s ears burned and he covered his rear with his hands in embarrassment. The whole bar had been gawking at his ass and Cartman had been encouraging it. He grabbed Cartman’s coat pressing their foreheads together. “What gives you the fucking right to-”

Cartman licked Kyle’s mouth.

“Eurgh!” Kyle jumped back, bruising his thighs on the pool table. “What the fuck, dude?!”

“Oh man, your face. Classic Jew.” Cartman’s arms bounced heartily on his chest as he howled with laughter. Kyle considered swiping his cue at Cartman, but there were too many other patrons he couldn’t risk hitting. He wiped his face and ran out of the bar.

*******

“Hey Jew, get back here! I need your ass for girl-bait. You owe me for all the running around I’m doing for you.”

“Fuck off Cartman.”

“No, you owe me sex, goddammit!”

“Well come and get it then, Fatass,” Kyle yelled, turning as he walked and gesturing to his body. Satisfied with the dumbstruck look Cartman gave him, he ran off back to the car and sat on the hood. A few moments later he sensed Cartman nearby but kept his face buried into his knees.

“What are you doing, Jew?”

“I don’t have the keys to the car or the motel. So I’m hoping to freeze to death on the hood.”

“Well don’t. Hood ornaments are gaudy.”

“Leave me alone, Cartman,” he sighed. 

The car tilted as Cartman heaved himself up beside him. “I could. But where’s the fun in that?” They sat together for a little while; Cartman rolling, offering and then smoking a joint solo.

“You really should cut back on that stuff, Cartman,” Kyle mumbled. “I mean there’s recreational and then there’s standing stock still.”

He shrugged back, “It’s only for this week. Normally it takes me like a month to get through what I’ve done so far.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I have school work to do too, y’know. Can’t remember my presidents if I’m already trying to remember the lyrics to Bad Touch.” 

Kyle giggled. Maybe he was on a contact high but he suddenly felt better.

The car lurched as Cartman jumped off. “C’mon Jew, let’s get some munchies and call it a night.”

“You’re not going back in?”

“You’ll only bitch if I bring back a hot babe and disturb your beauty sleep.”

“Really Cartman, it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin your vacation.”

Cartman shuffled his feet. “Our.”

“Huh?”

“ _Our_ vacation. There’s no point to this if you’re not having fun.”

“Cartman… that’s really nice of you.”

He bristled defensively. “God whatever, let’s just go back to the room and sleep. I need my shuteye and we’ve got a whole day of driving around and then doing nothing all night again because _someone_ has to be a ginger fucking eunuch.”

 _Jesus_ , thought Kyle, _I was complimenting you, asswipe_. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know. You say it’s our vacation but you’re not even slightly willing to compromise.”

“I’ve been celibate for two days because of you!”

“A day and a half, barely. Besides, you bullied me into fucking a girl I hardly knew.”

“Oh yeah Kahl, I remember it clearly. Dragging you by your dick straight into her awaiting cooch.”

Kyle slipped to the ground and walked to the nearest kerb with his thumb out.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Hitching a ride or grabbing a taxi, whichever fate decides.”

“Hitching is exactly how pretty boys like you end up dead and a taxi to South Park will cost a bomb. Just get in the car.”

“Plan on dying anyway,” Kyle said simply.

“Fine,” Cartman scoffed. “Just typical of a Jewrat to break their promise.”

“What promise?”

Cartman leaned into his face. “ _Two days_. Remember? And it was practically night when it was made so I got until tomorrow to turn your sorry ass around.”

Kyle looked up and down the empty road. He wasn’t going anywhere fast like this. “Midnight tomorrow. Then you take me home. No…” He tilted his face close to Cartman’s with a sinister smile. “You take me up the mountain.”

Something indecipherable to Kyle flashed through Cartman’s eyes before he whispered, “Fuck you.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere with you, promise or no.”

Cartman straightened his back with a pained hiss. “Then I’ll just have to work extra hard tomorrow, won’t I?” Kyle blinked owl-like as Cartman motioned him back to the car. The countdown to his death had officially begun.


	5. House of the Rising Sun

Cartman was still pissed when he woke that morning, glaring at Kyle from his bed, and the drive was almost tangibly tense. Kyle couldn’t understand why Cartman was so interested in what he did with his dick anyway. And what he did with his own didn’t require Kyle’s permission.

By now even Cartman was exhausted with his music, so Kyle idly clicked through the radio stations trying to find something tolerable. Anything was better than bitter silence. A car overtaking them gave him an idea to make amends.

“What the hell?” Cartman snapped when Kyle hit his arm.

“Punchy Buggy Blue,” Kyle mumbled with a small smile.

“Seriously?” Cartman muttered then punched him back. “Punch Buggy Red.”

Kyle rubbed his shoulder. “That’s a motorcycle, Fatass.”

“I’m not waiting around for an actual Beetle, fuck that noise.”

“At least pick an actual _car_.”

Cartman made a disgruntled snort and turned off. “First stop,” he announced at Kyle’s querying eyebrows. He parked up near a gas station, lowering his seat back and pulled his hat over his face. “Gonna have a quick pow-wow with Morpheus first.”

“The Matrix guy?”

Cartman lifted part of his hat to reveal one eye. “Uncultured bastard.”

“I was joking, Cartman.”

“Sure.” He settled down for a nap and Kyle was left to amuse himself. He decided to make himself useful and took Cartman’s wallet to buy some more food, and coffee for when Cartman woke. It occurred to him that he could just rob Cartman and use the money to go straight home but for some reason his promise niggled at him and against all common sense he thought he should give Cartman the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t sure how Cartman planned to turn him around, or what qualified as having been turned around, but he was sure it wouldn’t work.

Kyle didn’t get back into the car in case he disturbed Cartman, choosing instead to sit on a small wall and wrap his gloved hands around his coffee. He people-watched for a short time. It was mostly truckers coming in and out. There were a few other Spring Break groups – having way more fun than they were judging by their enthusiastic yelling and falling about.

Kyle wondered if maybe it would have worked better with the four of them. They could have found an opportune moment to drag Kenny off of whatever girl he was trying to mount, and they could eventually have persuaded Wendy to let Stan off his leash. Metaphorical of course. An actual leash would have been too interesting for them.

Come to think of it, all four of them together would have been a terrible idea. Stan would have been checking in with Wendy every five seconds, and Kenny would have been even worse than Cartman. Well, both worse and better. He’d have been far more sexualised and scandalous, but Kenny was one of those people who had the decency to live and let live. If Kyle had refused any mischief Kenny would have shrugged it off.

Kyle put down his drink and rubbed his warm wet hands over his face soothingly. If Cartman wasn’t taking “no” for an answer, maybe he’d listen to “I’m gay”. But he hadn’t told anyone else and Cartman was the absolute last person Kyle wanted to be his first. But if it meant being left alone... Better yet Cartman might call the whole vacation off. 

Or abandon him out here. Or worse. After all, he’d found lesser reasons to try to kill Kyle over.

*******

Cartman squinted and wondered why everything was so dark and hot. Frowning with realisation, he pushed off his beanie and twisted his neck until it felt right again. Throwing open the car door, he whistled to Kyle, who immediately gathered up his shopping and ran over. Kyle handed him his drink before getting in. “I got you a coffee. It might be only warm by now though.”

Cartman sipped it, made a face.

“Sorry, is it really that cold?”

“You forgot my sugar.”

“I put five in.”

“I take six.”

Kyle shook his head worriedly. “Jesus, Cartman. You’re a walking cardiac, you know that?”

“Maybe one day we’ll be diabeetus twins.”

“Heh, well we’re already kidney twins.”

Cartman ransacked the snacks. “Candy corn, are you fucking five?”

Kyle stuck out his lower lip. “It was on sale from Halloween.”

“There’s a reason it was on sale, Kahl,” he scowled, pouring some into his mouth anyway. Nap, coffee and sugar soon made Cartman a new man and he happily crooned and careened down the highway for the rest of the day. Kyle was relieved by the turnaround until it dawned on him that it would mean Cartman was revitalised for later. He really didn’t want to know what he had planned.

*******

The usual line-up; food, drink, motel, more drink, weed (for Cartman) and foraging for women. Kyle knew it was a bad idea to drink so much, considering the last time he ended up sleeping with a stranger. He had to get on the wrong side of drunk. Further than blackout, he needed to dance on the edge of alcohol poisoning. Fuck it, why dance? He was suicidal. It wasn’t a nice way to go but it was a way. He’d lost interest in the means. Results were what mattered. He didn’t even look when he crossed the street after Cartman towards a shady looking part of town. “Nearly there, my little Jewbilee,” Cartman simpered ahead of him and Kyle demurely nodded.

They stopped outside a tall, thin, red bricked building with a few scantily-clad woman stood outside. “Cartman this better not be…”

“A house of ill repute? Of course!”

“What the hell?!” Kyle fell back against a lamppost, gripping it in terror. “Why would you bring me here?”

“What’s the problem? You didn’t like the way we were hunting girls all week. So I brought you to some ‘factory-farmed’ ones.”

“I am absolutely not having sex with a prostitute, Cartman. Ah, no offence ladies, I don’t mean you’re beneath me or anything.” They giggled at Kyle, whispering how adorable he was.

Cartman chuckled too, “Beneath, on top, whatever we want to pay for Kahl.”

“Shut up Cartman. You’ve had your two days and you’ve blown it. As soon as you’re sober you’re taking me home.”

“For what?”

Kyle stopped in his tracks. And broke. “I don’t know what your game is Cartman. You ruined my death, the least you can do is leave my life alone.”

“So you can throw it away?”

“If you were my friend Cartman,” Kyle faced him with an adamant glower, “maybe that would be your business.”

Cartman slammed him up against the post. “Fuck you.”

“Gentlemen,” coughed a large man from the doorway of the brothel. “There’s no trouble here is there?”

“No trouble,” Kyle said once Cartman abruptly released him. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes you were,” the women’s guardian rumbled and Kyle took the opportunity whilst Cartman was distracted to run back to the motel.

Cartman frowned momentarily after him before addressing the women. “M’ladies,” he purred, tipping his beanie. “I shall be back to see you before the night is out, I’m sure.”

*******

Kyle lifted his head, aware of a dull ache lower down that didn’t register into full-on pain until he made the mistake of moving. He slumped back, stifling a yell and froze at the sound of Cartman’s snoring. Far closer than it had been before. He turned his head carefully and was confronted by his sweetly sleeping face, fresh hickeys scattered around his neck. Kyle swallowed the pool of saliva that had gathered in his mouth and anxiously slipped naked from the bed, every movement a quiet piece of torture, physically and mentally.

Angling himself warily he lowered his body into the shower and sat beneath the hot rain thinking hard. What had happened? Stupid question, he knew what had happened. But just how the fuck? He couldn’t remember a thing. He had been drunk and angry because Cartman had dragged him to that stupid brothel. He walked off, but things fell away from his memory like wet sand at that point.

Despite the scalding water, he shuddered.

“KAHL!” Cartman’s voice thundered from outside the door. “Why the FUCK do I have day-walker jizz all over me?”

Kyle’s fingers clenched against his thighs. Cartman seriously had the impudence to be angry with _him_? “What makes you think it’s mine, Fatass?”

“Because I was still wearing a condom with mine in when I woke up.”

“Yeah? Why do you think you were wearing a condom, you fucking idiot?”

There was a brief pause and Kyle thought he heard Cartman swear under his breath then cough, “You okay?”

Kyle had been just fine until Cartman said that. Suddenly he really, really wasn’t. He sucked in his bottom lip. “Not really,” he confessed.

There was another pause before Kyle heard a, “Shit,” from him. “Just stay here. I’ll be back in a sec.”  
Kyle sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere soon. He heard Cartman wash up quickly then leave and he stayed under the shower until the water ran cold. He combed a curl from his face and a condom fell out from his hair. Kyle laughed slightly manically at it.

The low temperature became too much to bear and he cautiously knelt up to switch off the water. Pulling aside the curtain he saw a towel folded up on the floor.


	6. Big Mistake

Kyle managed to make it to the bed and he laid on his stomach facing the television even though he was completely uninterested in watching it. It was possible he’d change his mind later and he didn’t want to have to turn around. The damp towel he had wrapped around his hips was uncomfortable but he had no desire to rummage for clothes and Cartman must have seen everything anyway. Fuck being shy. He dozed off eventually and woke to the smell of waffles and coffee. Cartman tapped his head gently with the corner of a cardboard box. “Hungry?” 

Starving, but Kyle predicted he might regret his food choices later down the line. Still, waffles probably wouldn’t be too hazardous. The big question was how to eat. There was no way he was sitting up. He pulled himself forward and leaned over the end of the bed to begin eating from the box on the floor.

“Woah there, before you start…” Cartman handed Kyle some painkillers and a tube of cream.

“What’s that?”

Cartman narrowed his eyes but didn’t look at him. “It’s what my mom uses.” Kyle’s face reddened. He didn’t want to know how Cartman knew that, but he remembered that Liane often sent him out on “errands for mommy” when they were kids. Those errands made a little more sense now. Cartman picked up his grinder and papers and went out the room so Kyle could apply it in private. He wiped his hands clean on the moist towelettes that came with breakfast. When Cartman came back he handed Kyle a freshly rolled joint. For the first time that trip Kyle begrudgingly accepted it. Medicinal reasons, was his argument. 

They didn’t exchange a word, but both knew Kyle was in no condition to sit in Cartman’s rickety old banger for hours. Cartman reclined at the other end of the bed and they channel-surfed and smoked and (ridiculously) drank, but cautiously made their drinks slow and drawn out. Sober meant having to think about what happened. Drunk meant it might happen again. They tried to keep a balance.

Moments began to surface in Kyle’s mind. Coming back ahead of Cartman and finishing off their beer stash alone. Cartman knocking a few hours later reeking of liquor – must have found a bar that let him in. He recalled strong anger, Cartman pushing him back into the room, yelling at him, him yelling back. Grabbing and being grabbed. Then a few seconds of just glaring at one another, far too close.

“You still owe me sex, Jew.”

“So come and get it, Fatass.” 

And shit, he’d kissed Cartman first, he remembered that, but only because Cartman hesitated. He had definitely leaned in, at least in Kyle’s interpretation of events. Then everything became teeth and nails and being pushed down and how the fuck Cartman had the sentience to find and put on a condom was beyond him. The horrifying thought that maybe Cartman had been in control of his actions, had used Kyle’s own drunkenness as a guise did cross his mind. But something seemed very real about how quiet Cartman was right now, up the other end of the bed, idly fiddling with his shirt as he tried not to look at Kyle and sat as far away as possible practically on the edge of the mattress. They barely moved; each squeak of the springs a guilty reprise of last night.

*******

Evening crept over them after an agonisingly slow and uncomfortable (in every sense of the word for Kyle) day. Kyle stayed at his end of the bed, clothed in only his boxers that he put on after the first time he went to the bathroom. It hadn’t gone as badly as he thought. No worse than the Wednesday after Taco Tuesday at school. He didn’t seem to have a fissure or anything. Maybe he was being a bit of a wuss about the whole thing. But the day had been a welcome rest from everything so he didn’t mind taking advantage. He curled onto his side and listened to Cartman crawling under the covers at the head of the bed with courteous gentleness.

They had shared maybe two or three instances of conversation, consisting of a total of maybe ten sentences the entire day, all revolving around food. Kyle slept through lunch, smacking Cartman’s insistent finger prodding his cheek away. He was dreaming about, perhaps remembering, last night. How the bruises on his hips came to be. The friction of the mattress against his cock. The cold liquid poured on his hole contrasted by the burning from riding back onto Cartman. Sweat and spit making his forearms sticky against his face.

He still hadn’t worked out where the second condom came from. He was answered that night, when he stopped breathing in time with Cartman’s soft huffs and fell asleep on his own. 

The drink had finally caught up with Cartman and he had to give up fucking Kyle, pulling out prematurely and landing next to him with a frustrated growl. Kyle wasn’t about to let him get away with leaving him high and dry, discarding the condom on the bed and grinding against him. There were words floating through his mind. Cartman’s words. Cartman had been talking the entire time, hadn’t he? Apart from a few ‘right there’s he’d barely spoken to Sandy-Lou the other night. But with Kyle words dripped out of him like thick honey. Telling him he was tight and hot and gorgeous, his little day-walker, his precious Jew and how he’d been thinking about fucking him for years.

That last one… that definitely had to be all dream.

By the time he brought Kyle off, Cartman was inspired to go again. He sucked Kyle clean and wrapped his legs around him, and any of Kyle’s sensations of pain were dulled by drink as he allowed himself to be slicked then breached without preparation again. But his body was more accommodating than before, and Cartman stayed with him to the end this time.

Kyle woke in the morning, confused and frightened from all the new feelings washing over him.

*******

Kyle was alone when he propped himself up in bed, experimentally stretching himself and gauging for discomfort. He was fine it seemed and he went about his morning ablutions as normal. Cartman returned with breakfast and they continued the fun game of not looking at one another. Until Cartman told Kyle that it was time to go.

“Where?” asked Kyle, daring to let his eyes land on him.

Cartman met them, studying him thoroughly. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle hugged his arms. The two days were up but he wasn’t sure how he felt about anything. Life, death, least of all Cartman.

He nodded. “Then I’m taking you home.” Sentenced to life, Kyle wasn’t sure how to feel about that answer. Of course Cartman wouldn’t choose the mountains. Choosing them would mean admitting that he had failed in his mission and Cartman was even more obstinate than he was. But it wasn’t his decision to make, not without all the facts.

Things were merely postponed, Kyle concluded. The moment he was out of Cartman’s sight he was headed for the mountains.

*******

The following two days were even more strenuous and fraught with tension. They were on a straight path home with no frivolous side-quests. Kyle silently wallowed in anger and Cartman murmured along to the songs on the radio. 

Cartman booked separate rooms on their one stop-over.

The next day they were due to arrive home shortly after midnight. Kyle was fine until they passed the South Park sign. Then every ignored emotion that had slowly built up inside him over the week bubbled up. “Cartman, stop the car.”

“Why?”

“If you value your interior stop the fucking car.”

Cartman practically drifted the car to the shoulder and the moment it ceased motion Kyle fell out, retching into the snow. He heard the engine get killed between his spasms. Once empty he dragged himself back into his seat and was met by a bottle of water pressed against his face. For the first time in days, he smiled, and at Cartman of all people. “Thank you.”

Cartman opened his mouth and snapped it shut, as if he considered singing but thought better of it. Kyle sipped the water and took some gum he knew Cartman hoarded out of the glovebox. Cartman gazed at him thoughtfully. “You really that upset to go home?” 

Kyle’s tongue traced the minty path of the gum around his mouth. “I’m gay.”

Cartman looked askance at him. “The fuck are you talking about? Because of the other day? Look that was just-”

“I was already gay. My parents aren’t exactly cool with it. That’s why I was up the mountain. In fact I probably owe you an apology. If I wasn’t gay then we probably wouldn’t have… I mean you wouldn’t have…”

Cartman snorted. “Okay no offence, Kahl, but you’re not so hot that you can turn people. I’m exactly the same sexuality I was last week.”

“You’re… wait what?”

“Surprise!” Cartman grinned. “What you thought I was going to waste all this sexiness on one gender?”

Kyle slumped back in his seat. Then he began to convulse with laughter. “You’re telling me we were chasing girls I didn’t want and you didn’t mind when we could have spent the whole week holed up in a hotel fucking?” Kyle spat his gum out into the snow; he was almost choking on it.

“I’d laugh too if it wasn’t so fucking tragic,” Cartman muttered. “Besides, you can’t honestly say if I’d said a week ago, ‘Hey Jew, want to fuck?’ you’d have said yes.”

Kyle wiped his eyes. “Well not if you asked like that.” His giggling died down. “But maybe. I dunno.” Kyle hadn’t thought about relationships because he didn’t want to put anyone through his suicide. And casual sex wasn’t really his thing. “I would have said no,” he admitted, “but not for the reasons you think.”

“So I’m not completely grotesque?” Cartman teased. “You really secretly think I’m kinda cute?” Kyle didn’t know if it was the way he bit his lip or pushed a stray curl back under his ushanka in response but something in Cartman’s expression changed. With darkened eyes he jerked his head and said just one word, “Back,” and they both bounded out of the car and dove into the back, their lips smashing together haphazardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I aaaammmmm a giant fuccccckkiiiing cockteeeeaaaaaseeeee**


	7. Lovers in the Backseat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic was supposed to just be "I want Kyle to fuck Cartman in the back of a car" and it turned into this giant emo-fest and I apologise.

Kyle had successfully used Cartman’s sexual grunts to fire up his arousal on his night with Cindi but hearing those sounds at close quarters was an entirely different atmosphere and he had never felt so turned on. He wasn’t the most experienced of his friends, Stan having had Wendy for so long and Kenny roaming around since he was a kid, and although Cartman’s tales were probably 90% bluster, Kyle had witnessed firsthand that he wasn’t all talk. Kyle had messed around with a few of his Jew Scout friends, but the last time had been almost a year ago. 

He jammed the fleshy part of where his hand joined his thumb between his teeth when Cartman opened his jeans and dug inside and he returned the favour, lifting their shirts and pressing closer. Sitting so awkwardly they could only connect in three places; mouth to mouth, stomach to stomach, hand to dick. Kyle hated that they were both too big for him to straddle Cartman’s lap and gain the friction he really needed.

With an aggravated groan Cartman pulled away, tilting aside so he could free a hand to go through the shopping bag under the front seat. He thrust the lubricant and a few condoms into Kyle’s lap.

“Cartman, I’m not sure I’m fully healed yet,” he mumbled apologetically into his mouth.

“Not for you,” Cartman grunted, lifting himself and yanking down his jeans and, _holy shit_ , Kyle didn’t need to be told twice as he fell out of the car again and ripped open a condom. He rolled it over his fingers and oiled them liberally before pushing slowly inside him. Hearing no noise of complaint, Kyle drove in deeper and spread his fingers only adding a third when Cartman’s gasps went from soft and shallow to eager and staccato. Cartman pressed his head into the dip of the car seat when Kyle exchanged his fingers for his cock, and sighed heavily as he was gradually and gloriously filled. He panted various curses as Kyle began slamming into him.

Kyle folded his arms onto the curve of the car’s freezing roof staring down at his cock disappearing inside Cartman’s ass. The cold air hitting his groin whenever he pulled out didn’t slap any sense into him. And that bridge was far away, his parents were far away. All he had was the snow under his sneakers and the beautiful tight feeling of Cartman clenching around his dick.

A beam of light in his eyes brought him screeching back to reality. They both looked up disorientated at Officer Barbrady wielding a flashlight. 

“Carry on.” He clicked off the light and turned on his heel back to his car.

It was a few excruciating moments before Cartman moaned into the seat, “Oh my fucking God!” He felt Kyle land on his back, shaking with laughter. “Ay! Get off!”

“I’m trying to,” he snickered. “That threw me a little bit though.” He smirked at Cartman’s disappointed whine as he pulled out. Cartman shuffled around in the car, then rolled off Kyle’s condom and licked gently at the tip of his cock. Kyle raised his shirt to get a better view, tucking Cartman’s sweat-smoothed hair behind his ear affectionately. Cartman drew back for a second. “This feels familiar.”

“You sucked me the other day.”

“You remember? Any good?”

“Yes but… was after… come… aah!”

Cartman took him deeper.

“Do you want… I mean me to… after…”

He licked the base of Kyle’s dick. “I came already.”

“Really? You mean… when I-I was – fuck! – fucking you?”

Cartman pulled off him with a grin. “Don’t sound so smug, Jew.” He guessed Kyle was close now and he turned him around and finished him off with his hand onto the snow, couldn’t resist tonguing the cleft of his butt as he did so. Kyle yelped a little as the cold air drew across the patch of saliva. “Sorry,” said Cartman, not sounding it, “but your ass just begs to be licked.”

Kyle zipped himself up. “Maybe next time, hm?”

“So there’s a next time?” Cartman chortled. “Gonna be difficult if you’re dead.”

“Do you have to ruin everything?” Kyle whispered.

“Just making a point. Or have I finally changed your mind?”

“You.” Kyle swivelled angrily. “Was that all just a bid to keep me alive?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kahl.” Cartman got out and hitched up his jeans. “It’s your body, do what you like with it. Fuck me, don’t fuck me. Die, don’t die. Do or do not, there is no try. Whatever.”

Kyle stared at him, swallowed painfully. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not sorry we fucked the other night.” Cartman leant against the car, shivering when it was colder than expected. “But I am sorry I fucked you twice without prep. And I’m not sorry I saved you on that bridge. But I know it wasn’t my call.” He stood up and walked back around to the driver’s side. “Maybe I did fuck you to keep you alive. That make me such a bad person?” He got in, left Kyle alone in the night.

Kyle never told Cartman they fucked twice. As usual he had revealed too much.

*******

They parked up in front of Kyle’s house. The lights were off, but he knew his parents were in. Where else would they be but waiting for their sweet little boy to come home? Next to him, Cartman rolled a joint and casually set it aside. “What’re you waiting for?”

“The car to catch fire.”

“You really that scared to tell them?”

“Terrified,” Kyle admitted. “I was going to wait until college. Then they couldn’t get at me. But sitting on such a huge secret… it weighs on you. It got too much.”

“Preaching to the choir, sweetness. But it’s not like you have to tell them tonight.”

Kyle shook his head and sighed, “Not tonight, no. But soon.”

“And then what?”

“Carry on, I guess.” He gave Cartman a sideways glance. “Congratulations.”

“On what?”

“Your little plan worked. Your week of haranguing me.”

“Contrary to popular belief, Kahl,” Cartman shrugged, “I don’t have a scheme going every second of every day.”

Kyle scoffed, “Oh please, you remember the other night. I know you do.”

“Sure, it’s been coming back to me.”

“That’s not what I meant. Forgive my scepticism, Cartman, but I think you remember every damn second, because you didn’t really drink that much.”

Cartman laughed at him. “If you wanna cry rape go ahead. Honestly? I really wish I did ‘remember every damn second’. It was probably the most interesting thing you’ve done all year and I missed it.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Kyle muttered.

“So you keep saying.” He wound down the window for fresh air and stuck his arm out so his hand could ride the breeze like a little kid would. “You want the truth, Jew? I’ve only lied to you once this whole trip.”

Kyle stared at his house, said nothing.

“I didn’t follow you up the mountain. I was already there.”

That got his attention. “Why were you up the mountain?”

“Give me a list,” he grimaced. “I’ve been going up there a couple times a month for over a year now. Just sit in my car, drinking. Never quite make it onto the bridge.”

“Jesus, Cartman, why didn’t you say anything? We could have helped you.”

“Seriously, _you’re_ going to lecture _me_? You know how much I fucking hated you when I saw you sashaying your gay little ass straight up to that bridge? How you didn’t even think twice? Did what I was always too much of a pussy to do?” He stole a glimpse of Kyle. He hadn’t turned away from gazing at his house. “The stupidest part of it is… if I hadn’t made it in time, I would’ve jumped after you. For the first time, I wasn’t scared of that bridge. So yeah I ruined your death out of spite. Big fucking surprise.” He flinched when he felt lime fingers press into his lemon hand.

Kyle used his other hand to stall the tears about to spill down his cheeks.

“Kyle…”

He looked up at the rare pronunciation of his name. “You didn’t ruin anything. You saved me,” Kyle shushed. “I just didn’t know I wanted to be saved.”

“Maybe. But this is dangerous,” Cartman warned. “Making calls on each other like this.”

“Haven’t we always? I can’t think of a week where I wasn’t dragging your sorry ass out of some life or death situation you got into when we were kids.”

“Throwing yourself of a bridge is kinda different. I’m not looking for a million dollars down there.”

Kyle snorted. “No. But where does this leave us? On a Checkmate? Or do we make a suicide pact? We go together or not at all.”

“Romantic,” said Cartman. “I bet your parents would have a few things to say about _that_.”

“I really don’t give a shit anymore.” Kyle softly teased their lips together, stopping when Cartman didn’t react. He pulled back and studied the storm-clouded eyes in front of him. “Maybe this _is_ dangerous.” 

Living for one another, whilst romantic, wasn’t sensible. Cartman could be his reason to live or his reason to not die, however he wanted to interpret it; but where would that leave him? Friends, family, love, desire, or even that sunset against a tree. Outside influences that gravitated him towards life. But they were all fleeting. The only thing he had was himself. If he couldn’t live for that… 

But was there really something so wrong about having an anchor or two to weather the storm. Kyle smiled to himself. You couldn’t get a better anchor than a fatass.

Kyle kissed him again. “Good night, Cartman.” He got out of the car, picking up the plastic bag with his new clothes.

Cartman started up the engine. “Hey, if your mom does end up being a bitch about your fagginess, you can always stay at mine. I mean, in the spare room. Or whatever.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

He couldn’t resist this time. “Hey it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re welllllcooooome!”

Kyle rolled his eyes, his chest feeling lighter. He wasn’t sure how life was going to pan out now, but if Cartman was nearby he definitely wasn’t going to die from boredom.

Cartman placed the tip of his joint into the corner of his mouth. “And just FYI, Jew – careful when you go to wash your clothes. I had to wipe my butt on one of your shirts earlier.”

“You what?! What the fuck? Cartman!”

He sped away, laughing loudly with his middle finger hanging out the window. Kyle smiled to himself and looked back at his house. Hopefully, his _home_. But if not he knew he had somewhere to go, someone to be with.

He wondered what Cartman had planned for their Summer Break.

**The End**


End file.
